The Melody Files: Series 1
by talesofthepast
Summary: Melody Woodstock Holmes yearns for a balance in her life, between adventure and normality. Her brother is her adventure. Maybe the doctor can be her normality... It's Melodyverse but it CAN be seen as Ydolemverse
1. Prologue

**Welcome to the beginning of my first official Melodyverse tale for BBC Sherlock. Within this story, I introduce the little sister of Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes, Melody, as they join them for the first case of A Study In Pink. Read on!**

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

The plucking of the guitar strings grated on Sherlock's ears like a drill against concrete. It wasn't often he could be distracted but the person playing the guitar had a rather annoying talent for it. He looked away from his severed hand in the box to the young black-haired woman sitting cross legged in the corner of the lab, her headphones blocking out all other sound that the song blaring in her ears. She had her eyes closed whilst playing the guitar fluently to the tune in her head- a little trick she liked to do when she felt like showing off. It impressed everyone that saw her... well, everyone except her big brothers.

Melody Holmes bore a striking resemblance to her second eldest brother. Her raven black hair seemed to highlight her pale white skin. If it sparkled in the sun, she could be a Cullen, as the idiot Anderson once said to her. She merely remarked that if he shaved once in a while, he would look more human and less gorilla. The next day, Anderson's face was as smooth as a baby's bottom. Melody's smugness knew no bounds, another trait which she shared with her older brothers. Mother had always told her that it was unbecoming of a woman, but Melody ignored that. She never let her gender confine her. Otherwise, where was the fun?

Sherlock sighed irritably. Shouting was useless. He noticed the apple sitting on the table next to his hand- Molly had brought that up for him about 3 hours ago. Without hesitation, Sherlock grabbed the apple and pegged it in the direction of his little sister. And, as usual, she fluidly reached up and grabbed the apple when it was just an inch away from hitting her square in the face. The song interrupted, Melody opened her eyes, her gray blue eyes staring at her brother's identical ones.

"Is that really necessary, Sherlock?" Melody raised an eyebrow

Sherlock turned back to his hand, "Must you placate yourself with that irritating racket? I am working"

"It appeases me, brother, and unlike you with that violin, I can actually play a tune which is delightful to most ears" Melody took off her headphones, turning off her I-pod, "Besides, it helps me think"

"Oh, really? What about?" Sherlock sounded remotely uninterested. Ignoring his tone, Melody continued.

"That unexplainable bruising on the corpse. I was just curious... how long after death do you believe bodies still bruise?"

Sherlock turned and stared at Melody. Uninterrupted, Melody continued her explanation.

"What if the bruises were a post-mortem result of how the body was dumped and had absolutely no connection to cause of death? If that's the case..."

"And the body was disposed of at least an hour after his death..." Sherlock continued, realisation dawning.

"Then the heir has no alibi" Melody nodded.

Sherlock stared at his little sister, "Brilliant, Mel! Brilliant!"

Excitedly, he jumped off his stool and headed straight to his jacket, lying on the chair on the other side of the room. Melody smiled to herself as she watched her brother scramble for his mobile like a kid at Christmas. Mycroft was never this much fun. He would call his assistant, 'Anthea', and she would do all the work. Mycroft just pushes a button with his umbrella tip and tells her to 'go'. That's why, when Melody moved out of the family home, she came straight to Sherlock. With him, everything was exciting.

"Molly? It's Sherlock Holmes. Do you have anybody that has died very, very recently? At least within the last hour or so?" Sherlock paused. Melody's grin grew as she watched his eyes light up, "Brilliant! I will be right down!"

Sherlock hung up and began to hurriedly put on his jacket, "Fantastic, Melody! Maybe that torture device has some purpose after all"

Melody rolled her eyes and took her brother's trenchcoat off the other chair and helped him put it on, "Everything in this world has a purpose, Sherry. You just have to be open-minded enough to see it"

"Alright, let's get going!" With that, Sherlock headed straight out the door.

Melody sighed as she began to slowly put on her black leather jacket and put her guitar back into its casing. She untangled her headphones, placing them around her neck and had her I-pod in her pocket at the ready. She began to count down in her head, leaning against the table, twirling an object in her slender fingers.

"3...2...1..." Melody breathed, "And... cue Sherlock"

At that moment, Sherlock popped his head back in the room, looking a little flustered as if he had been running, "Mel... have you-?"

"Looking for this?" Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the riding crop Melody had twirling in her hands, her eyes dancing with amusement.

He quickly relieved her of the crop, "Come on, Melody. Time is ticking! The more we wait, the smaller the window gets! Let's move!"

His enthusiasm was infectious. Melody followed him out the door, running for the staircase- there was no time for elevators- and following her brother all the way down to the morgue about three floors down. She didn't stop smiling all the way down. Life with Sherlock was better than a rollercoaster ride. But every now and then, the rollercoaster has to just cruise, without the dreaded possibility that you'll get - gasp - bored! That balance hadn't yet been achieved in Melody's life. However, unbeknownst to them, the events of this day would trigger a catalyst in which Melody and Sherlock's lives would be changed forever...

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><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed it! <strong>

**Oh, yeah, rate, review, I no own so you no sue. The usual crap.**


	2. Chapter 1: Meeting Doctor Watson

**Welcome to the beginning of my first official Melodyverse tale for BBC Sherlock. Within this story, I introduce the little sister of Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes, Melody, as they join them for the first case of A Study In Pink. Read on!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

Melody smirked at Molly's face through the window as she beheld the sight of Sherlock beating the hell out of a corpse in the next room. Melody could hear the sound of the riding crop hitting the skin over her ear-blasting music. Melody, in a way, pitied poor little Molly Hooper. To be infatuated with a sociopath- correction, high functioning sociopath, Melody could almost hear Sherlock saying in her head- and to be continuously manipulated by said sociopath wasn't exactly the kind of lifestyle Melody envied. As she sat on one of the body-free clean silver body trays, cross-legged, Melody watched her brother attempt to bruise the corpse and see if Melody's theory was correct. Finally, after what seemed to be forever, Sherlock ceased in his experiment. Melody turned off her music and jumped off the table, as Sherlock finally placed down his well-used riding crop. Melody began to observe the bruising around the corpse, as Sherlock pulled out his little black book of results, as Melody calls it. Everything important to him at that point in time was written inside that book, as he put it. He had rolled his eyes when he discovered that Melody had pasted a photo of herself in there when she was 13.

Melody only removed her eyes when she heard Molly walk into the room. She shuffled nervously, keeping her eye on Sherlock the whole time, who was busy writing his results in his little black book. She was trying to gather up the courage to ask him out, Melody deduced. She didn't have to be the genius she was to see that. She also didn't have to be a genius to see that it wasn't going to go down as well as Molly hoped it would. Melody read their lips as they conversed with Melody playing Bullet For My Valentine in her ears.

"So, bad day, was it?" Molly began half-smiling, attempting to get a laugh.

Sherlock ignored her, continuing to write in his book, "I need to know what bruises form in the next twenty minutes. A man's alibi depends on it. Text me!"

Molly nodded, almost like an obedient puppy. Poor thing. Melody watched as she built herself up and turned off her music. She was definitely going to listen to this.

"Listen, I was wondering... Maybe, later, when you're finished-"

Sherlock glanced at her and stopped, narrowing his eyes for a second, "You're wearing lipstick. You weren't wearing lipstick before"

Melody stifled a giggle as Molly was taken back for a second, "I, er... I refreshed it a bit"

"Sherlock, she is female" Melody interluded, her brother looking over Molly's shoulder to see her, "It is quite common for a woman to wear and refresh make-up"

"You don't" Sherlock pointed out

"Yeah, but I'm different. I don't like wearing any" Melody replied. According to her mother, she apparently didn't need any make-up. Not that it affected her in the slightest. Make-up was a useless invention to mask the insecurities of women and some men. Melody didn't judge people who wore make-up- it's hard to break old societal conventions. But Melody wasn't going to get sucked into that materialistic media fairground.

Sherlock returned his gaze to Molly before returning to his book, "Sorry, you were saying?"

Molly raised her head a little and continued, "I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee"

Melody waited in ancipation. What was her brother going to take out of this?

Sherlock snapped shut his black book, "Black, two sugars please. I'll be upstairs"

Melody nearly burst out laughing. But she was a Holmes. She could hold it in until she was back at the lab. However, since Molly was on her way...

"Hey, Mols?"

Molly turned around as Melody jumped off the bench she was sitting on, "Could you bring me up a Fanta while you're at it? I'm parched"

"OK" Molly squeaked.

Melody waited until Sherlock left the room and followed him out. Once they were out, Melody didn't hesitate in the slightest to hit her brother across the back of the head.

"Ow!" Sherlock rubbed his head, "What did I do now?"

"You know exactly what you did. Stop playing around with her like that!" Melody calmly told him off, "It's just cruel"

"You're using her as well" Sherlock pointed out

"She's not trying to get my affections, Sherry"

"Aargh, did you have to hit me? You're just like Mother"

"Well, someone needs to be Mother when she's not here"

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><p>Melody sat in the lab again, this time back with her guitar in her hands and her headphones on her head. She played along to her new favourite song at the moment, Holding Out For a Hero by Bonnie Tyler. She sung along with it in her head, and watched as Sherlock played around with his microscopes and his eye dropper.<p>

_Where have all the good men gone and where are all the gods? Where's the street wise Hercules to fight the rising odds? Where is the white knight upon a fiery steed?_

Melody smiled to the song. Her brother was a good man, could be a great one. But his sociopathy and general disregard for people kind of make it hard to consider him a hero. Same with Mycroft. Being a government official made it difficult for him to be a hero when he had to be the villain as well. Melody's smile became melancholic. She was her own hero, she had to be. But sometimes- although Melody would never admit it- it would be nice to have someone that was half-way normal.

_Late at night, I toss and I turn as I dream of what I need..._

At that moment, there was a knock on the door. Melody felt the vibrations through the wall she was leaning against and stopped her guitar playing. She turned to the door next to her and watched as it opened up, stopping an inch from her sitting position on the floor, blocking whoever was walking in from seeing her. Good, she usually like to see them before they see her. Gives her the upper hand. Melody watched as Mike Stamford, a doctor of St. Barts strolled into the room - she noted from the coffee stains on his sleeves that he had changed to de-caff. The diet must be going well. Two visits in one day- this is interesting. Then the new man walked in.

Melody immediately stopped her music and watched as the new man walked with Stamford into the lab. He was over average height, with a crew-type haircut. He was limping, relying on a cane to help him walk. She noted Sherlock giving him the glance as well. Without hesitation she began to analyse him.

"A bit different from my day?" The man commented. _So an old doctor who used to go to St. Barts._

"You've no idea" Stamford replied.

Sherlock, who went back to his experiment, piped up, "Mike, can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine"

Melody frowned. The signal in the room was perfect on her phone and Mike's phone was never on him. Then she froze. The clever devil. Quietly, Melody stood up and watched the conversation.

"And what's wrong with the landline?" Stamford asked, almost exasperated.

"I prefer to text" Sherlock replied, matter-of-factly.

A pause to check..."Sorry. It's in my coat"

Melody counted down mentally, _3, 2, 1,_before... "Er, here... Use mine"

Melody looked straight at the new man. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his phone, showing it to Sherlock. Melody continued her analysation. _He hadn't relaxed his straight posture at all during the meeting and noted a tanline around his wrist as he held up the phone. He's been out of the country, someplace hot and with a blazing sun. Put together with his crew cut- he's military. With his limp, he must have invaild home. _

"Oh, thank you" Sherlock feigned momentary surprise and moved off his seat. Melody moved slowly out of her corner and watched as Stamford piped up.

"This is an old friend of mine, John Watson" Stamford introduced

Ah, a face to the name. John Watson, sounds simple. But there was nothing simple about this man, Melody could see. _The leg he supposedly can't walk on wasn't bothering him at all. It had to have be psychosomatic._ Then Melody noticed how the hand reaching out to give Sherlock the phone had more mobility than that one that had held it up. _His left shoulder was his real injury._

"Hey, I noticed that your sister isn't here" Stamford interrupted her train of thought, "She was here earlier"

"I never left. Hello, Mike"

Mike and John turned in surprise as Melody walked out of the corner, a smile on her face. She held up her headphones, as if they'll explain why she was hiding in the corner.

"Sorry, didn't hear you come in" Melody told Stamford.

Stamford nodded, "This is John Watson, an old friend of mine"

Melody walked around and stood next to her brother as Sherlock retrieved the phone off Watson. Then Melody realised: which war was it? There was nothing on his person that could tell her. She hated asking, but unfortunately, if she wanted to know, it was a necessary evil.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" Both Melody and Sherlock asked in unison.

Sherlock and Melody ignored the supposed creepiness of the situation. They often did this, their mother called it 'sibling telepathy'. They usually thought the same thing at the same time and, often, just voiced them in unison. They understood it. Not everyone did, though. Stamford was smiling knowingly as he looked at the surprise on Watson's face.

"Sorry?" Watson responded, unsure if he heard right.

"Which was it-" Melody began, eyeing the phone

"-Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock finished, glancing at John, before looking the phone again.

Melody took the opportunity to give the phone a very, very quick once-over- _scratches on phone, probably from coins and keys in the pocket with the phone. Owner is or was quite careless. Doesn't fit Watson's profile. Must be hand-me-down. Scratches around charger point. Unsteady hands. Not an old person, not with such an advanced phone. Young person with unsteady hands- alcoholic._ Melody watched Sherlock finished texting and flip the phone over. _Engraving. Love Clara, xxx. Romantic interest. Not girlfriend, wife. Phone too expensive- anniversary gift. Gifts aren't given away so easily- they broke up. Phone very new- less than six months. Average 3-5 months ago. _Whose phone though?_ Not father or uncle- once again, young person- and also, he's here about the flatmate thing, undoubtedly. Reason why Mike brought him here. Invalided military men usually go to family. He doesn't have any or any he's close too. Whoever gave it to him wants to stay in touch. The fact he's here means he isn't keen on the idea, either over the alcoholism or the divorce. Possibly a sibling? _Melody immediately had Mycroft and Sherlock appear in her head, _Definitely a sibling._

"Afghanistan" Watson answered. Melody changed her attention to Watson. He had actually answered. Interesting, "Sorry, how did you...?"

A bang from the door announced Molly's presence, as she walked in carrying Sherlock's coffee and Melody's Fanta. Both the Holmes siblings turned their attention to their refreshments.

"Ah, Molly, coffee" Sherlock closed the phone and returned it to Watson, "Thank you"

"Thank you, Mols" Melody received her Fanta, "I really need a pick-me-up"

"No problem" Molly smiled unsurely at Melody. Poor girl, she liked Melody and Melody was reasonably fond of her. It was a shame she continued to chase such a hopeless cause. Melody then noticed that the lipstick was gone. This would be interesting.

Sherlock retrieved his coffee and looked at Molly. He noticed too, "What happened to the lipstick?"

Molly stammered a little, "It wasn't working for me"

Sherlock sounded surprised, "Really? I thought it was a big improvement."

Melody watched as her brother walked back to his computer, taking a sip from his coffee, "Your mouth's too small now"

Molly squeaked her usual "OK" and left the room, a little disconcerted. Melody walked straight up to her brother and gave him a whack on the back of the head. Sherlock glared at her, she stared back. They were going to discuss it later. They had business to discuss at the moment.

"How do you feel about the violin?" Sherlock asked.

Watson, still a little startled by what happened earlier, watched Molly leave and looked at Stamford. He was no help to the man, Stamford just watched him with a knowing expression.

"I'm sorry, what?" Watson replied

"I play the violin when I'm thinking and sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you?" Sherlock looked at John, "Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other"

"How about the guitar?" Melody joined in.

Watson stared at her, "Um, excuse me?"

"Well, since we are talking bad features, I thought I might put in mine as well. I like to play the guitar, listen to music with large headphones on" Melody held up her headphones, "while I'm thinking or daydreaming. You have no issue with a woman living with you either?"

"Uh, no." Watson, still a little surprised, looked at Stamford, "You told them about me?"

Stamford shook his head, "Not a word"

"Then who said anything about flatmates?" Watson inquired.

Melody couldn't resist a smirk. She walked around, past John, and picked up her guitar from near the door. She walked over and put it in its case on the bench against the wall.

Sherlock continued to talk, as he turned away to put his coat on, "I did. Told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for, let alone me and my sister"

Casually, Melody pegged the apple from earlier at Sherlock, who swiftly reached up and caught it. John looked at them, surprised, from one person to the other, but listened to Sherlock continue, all the same.

"Now, here he is, just after lunch, with an old friend clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan" Sherlock put the apple down and put his scarf on, "Wasn't a difficult leap"

"How did you know about Afghanistan?" Watson demanded, looking at his feet as he continued to talk. Interesting habit, Melody noted.

"Oh please, it wasn't difficult. Even Sherlock figured that out" Melody replied, picking up her guitar case in one hand and putting her other hand up to catch the apple as it soared at her head. They had been doing this for too long to not know when the soaring object was coming, "Thank you"

Melody took a bite out of the apple as Sherlock picked up his phone and continued to talk, "Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together, all three of us ought to be able to afford it. We'll meet there tomorrow evening at seven o'clock"

Melody wiped the apple juice from her mouth, watching as the stunned Watson looked back and forth from the two siblings, "Sherlock, we gotta go. You left your riding crop in the mortuary again"

Sherlock nodded, "Yes, yes, I know"

As the Holmes siblings went for the door, they heard Watson, "Is that it?"

Melody turned back and watched Watson. He was stunned, but he had a dash of challenge about him. He wasn't going to be easily satisfied like half the fools they know. He eyed them both with a determination and cynicism that brought him some admiration from Melody. She had a feeling she might like this one.

Sherlock turned back and walked over until he was right in front of Watson, "Is that what?"

Melody leaned up against the door, letting her guitar case rest against her leg, and folded her arms as she watched Watson stare off against Sherlock, "We've only just met and we're going to look at a flat?"

Melody shrugged, "Hey, we work faster than the post office"

Sherlock looked at her and then at Stamford, "Problem?"

Watson looked at Stamford, who had a sly half-grin going up his face. Watson had a grin on his face too, one that Melody read as _'you sly little bastard, you knew about this'_. She grinned to herself as well, and waited for it all to unfold.

"We don't know a thing about each other. I don't even know where we are meeting. I don't even know your name" Watson pointed out.

Sherlock and Melody caught each other's eyes. They knew what to do. _Let's see if we have both had drawn the same conclusion about this Doctor John Watson, _Melody thought.

Sherlock then looked him straight in the eye and began, "I know you're an army doctor and you've been invalided home from Iraq or Afghanistan. I know you've got a brother who's worried about you, but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him-possibly because he's an alcoholic-"

_Ah, he thinks it's a brother. Well, I won't be that discrimatory, but I'll continue, _Melody then jumped into the conversation, "...more likely because they recently walked out on their wife. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic, quite correctly I'm afraid"

Watson stared at her as Melody continued, "You really should fire her. She seems quite useless"

Sherlock grinned at Melody and then looked back at the dumbstruck Watson, "That's enough to be going on with, don't you think?

Watson watches in awe as Sherlock walks past Melody and goes to leave the room, before dramatically poking his head back into the room. Her brother could never resist being the drama queen.

"The name's Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street" Sherlock then cheekily winked at the doctor before looking at Stamford, "Afternoon"

Stamford waved him goodbye. Melody chuckled as her brother left, leaving Watson looking like a stunned deer in headlights. Usually, she'd walk out with him or be just as dramatic. But she could see- not by deducing anything- but just by looking in his eyes that this Doctor Watson was a good man. She couldn't leave him like this.

"That's Sherlock. He likes to be dramatic" Melody bent down and picked up her guitar case, walking over to her new flatmate, "Will we be seeing you tomorrow at seven, Doctor Watson?"

Watson looked down and then looked back up at her, shaking his head, "Do I have much choice?"

"Considering your situation, I don't think so"

John chuckled lightly and looked down. Melody noticed- it was a really annoying habit- and grabbed his chin, pushing his head back up to be at eye level with her. Watson was too surprised to do anything, like push her hand away. Stamford just continued smiling. He really was a cocky punk when he wanted to be.

"What the-?" Watson stared into Melody's electric blue eyes. Identical to Sherlock's, there was a softer edge to her eyes. They could be just as threatening but more human when they wanted to be.

"When you talk, you always look down" Melody said matter-of-factly, "It's not a good habit. Not only causes bad posture, it reflects how lowly you think of yourself in relation to others. Stop it. It's annoying. It's also unnecessary"

Melody grabbed John's hand and placed her apple in it. She let go of his chin and smiled cheerfully at him, "Sometimes, there is a good side to a bad apple. You just need to be careful which side you choose to bite from"

Letting go of John's hand, she gave the military man a two-fingered salute, "I'll be seeing you, Doctor Watson"

With that, Melody left the room, leaving a surprised John in her wake, holding the apple in his grasp. Reached the elevator, she saw Sherlock waiting impaitently for her. She hid her giggle as she approached her brother.

"I missed the last elevator waiting for you" Sherlock stated, clearly not impressed.

"Oh, you waited, how sweet" Melody gave him a mock smile, "Old habits die hard, huh?"

Sherlock grumbled, pressing the down button again, "I'm always left waiting for you"

Melody pressed the down button too, "Don't worry, I never take long"

Sherlock grinned as he watched her press the down button, "Old habits die hard"

Melody ignored her brother's comment and watched as the empty elevator opened to them. _Now,_ she thought as they entered, _all there was left to do was to let the pieces fall together and watch as the puzzle unfolded_.

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><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed it! <strong>

**Oh, yeah, rate, review, I no own so you no sue. The usual crap.**


	3. Chapter 2: 221B Baker Street

**Welcome to the beginning of my first official Melodyverse tale for BBC Sherlock. Within this story, I introduce the little sister of Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes, Melody, as they join them for the first case of A Study In Pink. Read on!**

Previously:

_Sherlock and Melody Holmes are introduced to ex-military doctor John Watson, a potential flatmate for their new home. Let's see how they get on._

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

Melody rolled her eyes, "I am not my brother's keeper, Lestrade. That's the role that my other brother assumed a long time ago."

"_Well, can you at least convince him not to text me- or the entire press -during important press conferences? It really is a nuisance, and it's getting Donovan on my back."_

"I'm sure there is a medical cure for that particular disease. 'Strumpet-B-Gone' or something like that, huh?" Melody eyed a smirk gracing her brother's features as she spoke.

"Melody!"

"Yes, yes, yes, fine. No sense of humour, you police types." Melody replied, "I'll talk to Sherlock. By the way, how have the mysterious suicide cases been going? I would watch the news, but it always depresses me."

_"You're hilarious, Mels"_ The irony dripped from Lestrade's words like they had been saturated in a storm, "_We know they are linked but, once again, only by how they died. Nothing else."_

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a woman's voice in the background, saying, "_Sir, we have to get going_"

Melody rolled her eyes, "Sorry, Lestrade, looks like Mister Ed the Talking Horse requires a scratch behind the ears"

Sherlock's smirk grew as Lestrade scolded her, "_Melody, what have I told you before?"_

Melody feigned ignorance, "Oh, right, right, sorry, I meant Lassie. You know, because she's a bi-"

"_That's enough, Mels. Just remember, if your brother pulls a trick like that again, I'll come after the pair of you. Got it?"_

"Yes, Detective. Thanks for the call." Melody then heard the woman again, "See you later, Lestrade, I hear Lassie calling."

Sherlock sniggered as Melody hung up on Lestrade, "You do know it's impolite to call people names, little sister?"

"Like you can talk. What did you call Anderson last time you saw him?" Melody pretended to think, "A neanderthalic baboon that has the intelligent of a retarded goldfish?"

"I didn't say it like that. My insult was far more cleverly worded" Sherlock retorted, spinning his riding crop in his fingers.

Melody got up and tossed her phone on the couch, next to her two boxes of belongings, marked in bold letters: **'Break Anything and I'll Break Your** **Fingers'** as a general warning to the removalists. Melody had only just packed her stuff today, while Sherlock had sent his stuff to the new apartment a week ago. Sherlock had a lot fo stuff, while Melody only carried basic essentials and portable trinkets of sentimental value, the largest being her guitar. The apartment would be a pigsty when they went there tomorrow. This was annoying for Melody, because she needed place to put her stuff, let alone a place which would be safe from her brother when he was in a bored mood. God knows where Doctor Watson would put any of his belongings, though judging from the clothes he was wearing, it would be safe to say that he didn't own too much.

At that moment, Sherlock and Melody met eyes. They knew what the other was thinking. Melody put her hands behind her head and lay back on the floor. She had always found it a very thought-provoking position: the blood was circulating at an even pace and spaced evenly throughout her body, there was no gravity restricting it to one part of the body. It gave more blood to the brain than standing and was less of a effort than standing on your head. Meanwhile, her brother continued to twirl his riding crop. Melody's eyes observed the ceiling while Sherlock's observed the tip of the riding crop. However, they spoke as if they were looking right at each other.

"So, Doctor John Watson?" Sherlock began, "You agree with my observations?"

"Almost all of them. He's very clean-cut and will be able to keep the place tidy. You know what military guys are like. Very straight-forward and to the point. Anyway, I know you saw the look in his eyes." Melody pointed out.

"Yes." Melody could hear the smirk in his voice, "He is just as bored as I am."

"Well, I wouldn't say that, Sherry. No one can be as bored as you."

"Oh, alright. Maybe as bored as you, Mels?"

"More plausible." Melody sighed, "Do you think he'll be able to keep up with us? As you did say to Stamford, we are a difficult pair in general. Living with us could turn each day into a living nightmare for the poor Dr. Watson."

"There is only one way to find out, and that's tomorrow." Sherlock replied, "What did Lestrade say about the serial suicide cases?"

"There is no further connection between the victims aside from how they died."

Each person had been found in places which seemed unknown or meaningless to the victim or their families and friends, poisioned by a self-administered cyanide capsule. They had completely different lifestyles, genders, occupations, socio-economic status, everything. There was nothing that could possible make them stand out specifically to a serial killer, nothing they had in common. Melody quickly skimmed through the files she had stored in her head. It had started last year, on October 12th. Middle-aged well-respected businessman Sir Jeffrey Patterson was found in a newly renovated floor of a building that was nowhere near where he usually worked. Melody remembered seeing the press release on the news: his wife was crying to the camera and giving out a rehearsed speech. It had seemed insignificant at the time. Both the Holmes sibilings had passed it off as another 'tragic suicide'.

But Melody retained an image in her head, when she had seen the press conference on the news. The P.A in the purple shirt, crying to the side. Obviously the dead man's mistress, both Sherlock and Melody agreed on. She was pretty and all: why would a man with a mistress like that kill himself?

Over a month passed until there was another one, on November 26th. It had been raining that night. Melody had been stuck at the hotel they were staying while Sherlock was visiting Mycroft on 'urgent business' (in other words, arguing over who was taking Mother to the opera for her birthday), when the news came on the radio about another suicide-by-cyanide-capsule. The body of 18-year-old street kid James Phillimore had been found at Norbridge Sports Centre after his friend, Gary Jenkins, who was waiting for Phillimore to return from retrieving his umbrella, couldn't find him and alerted the police. Melody read the papers the next day, Phillimore's family and friends said that he had absolutely no reason to be at the Centre, as he wasn't much of a sports fan. The kid was working nights to finance his education at college and was considered a fun-loving kid, by everyone. There seemed no apparent reason for suicide. But, then again, Melody had noted, there never is an apparent reason for suicide.

Melody had sought out Gary Jenkins herself, to see if she could obtain any facts the police had stupidly not noticed. She'd invited Gary to her empty hotel room for a night to talk (Sherlock had lost the battle with Mycroft and was suffering through _Les Miserables_). Melody discovered that Gary was quite flexible and not a virgin, but despite her ploys, she learnt no new facts about Phillimore- only the tears that Gary had silently cried when he thought Melody wasn't looking. She showed him out and gave him money for a cab ride home, leaving her physically satisfied, but mentally frustrated and 50 pounds short.

Two months passed, another classic Holmes Christmas Dinner came and went. Melody was researching for a new place to live (after Sherlock had gotten into a row with the landlord over unpaid bills, unpaid rent and scorch marks on the carpet) on January 28th when a breaking news press conference came onto the television, featuring Lestrade and his 'loyal lapdog' Sergeant Sally Donovan. The Junior Minister for Transport, Beth Davenport, MP, was found dead last night in an empty construction site in Greater London after leaving celebrations for her birthday. That was the press conference that Lestrade was just talking to Melody about less than a few minutes ago.

While Sherlock was being the clever smart-ass show off that he was, sending everyone's phones text messages that just said 'Wrong!', Melody was calling up the employees of Beth Davenport, posing as Sergeant Donovan. She learnt that Davenport had her car keys taken from her by one of her staff, as she was so drunk that her dancing was, as described by the woman, 'paralytic'. Melody had hung up when she heard the woman begin to sob on the other end of the phone. She hated the sound of crying. She had heard it too much in her lifetime.

The announcement about Beth Davenport was two days ago. Sherlock, now interested, wanted to be involved in this case as well with Melody, but there was no reason to be. They could only help if Lestrade wanted them in and came and got them and there was nothing that they could be useful with. It was all a matter of waiting and waiting drove Sherlock crazy. He was impaitent and when he was impaitent, he was bored.

Melody sometimes felt more like the mother of a toddler than the concerned sister of a grown man.

Sherlock's voice brought Melody out of her deep thinking, "Well, hopefully, the police will do something useful and bring us a new case soon."

Melody winced mentally, "You can't be bored already, Sherlock. We just solved the other case less than two hours ago."

"Yes, well, you know how fast my mind works."

"All too well, brother." Melody sat up, "Alright, I'm going out."

Sherlock stopped twirling his riding crop, frowning, "Where?"

"That Atlantic Fish and Chips down the street. You haven't eaten in 72 hours and I'm too lazy to make dinner." Melody jumped to her feet and grabbed her coat off the armchair, "I expect you to eat at least half a plateful of chips and two scallops."

Sherlock groaned, "Must I?"

"Yes. Get some dinner trays out and ready while I'm gone." Melody tied her scarf around her neck, "You better be more helpful at the new apartment than you were at the old one. Also, do not annoy the hotel staff while I'm out. We are only staying until tomorrow, so don't get the manager to kick us out a day early."

"Yes, yes." Sherlock's tone gave off his annoyance, "Don't be long."

"I never am."

With that, Melody walked out into the hotel corridor and headed for the elevator. Yes, it was like looking after a toddler sometimes. _God help Doctor Watson, if there is one_, Melody thought to herself as she pushed the down button for the elevator, _he is going to need all the help he can get._

* * *

><p>The cab ride to 221B Baker Street the next day was very quiet. Melody was thinking about her two boxes, which the removalists had come to take away last night, along with her guitar case, and hoping that nothing was broken. She would be very pissed off if she had to buy new strings for her guitar, which she had only just replaced two weeks ago. She had been silly enough to leave her guitar in the room with Sherlock while he was investigating a strangling. Sherlock, meanwhile, was thinking about the serial suicide cases. He wasn't going to give up on it so easily, if Melody knew her brother. And she knew her brother, too well, almost.<p>

Melody had her music at full blast in the car, letting her mind just go quiet at the deafening sounds of Skillet's 'Hero'. Sherlock was giving her death stares out of the corner of his eye: he hated rock music of any kind and Melody took a secret delight in pissing him off with her music. Melody, today, just ignored him and thought about their potential flatmate, meeting them at the apartment in less than 3 minutes.

_I am just a man_

_Not superhuman_

_(I'm not superhuman)_

_Someone save me from the hate_

John Watson's eyes had witnessed pain, suffering, bloodshed and death on the battlefields of Afghanistan. Melody's eyes had witnessed the same things, all in the streets of London, and most of it between the ages of 12 and 16. Was there room in their lives- her life -for another screwed-up reject of society? Melody glanced at her brother, his ice coloured eyes glancing out of the window, and just knew: he was thinking the exact same thing.

"We're here, Mel."

Melody looked over to Sherlock's side of the car and saw the 'Baker Street' sign pass them by, as the cab came to a stop outside their new home. 221B Baker Street had been around since Victorian times, the landlady Mrs Hudson had told Melody when they had spoken. It had a cosy and home-like feel about it, Mrs Hudson had described. Melody would have to see about that. Then Melody's eyes found the limping figure of Doctor John Watson as he hobbled down the sidewalk, heading for the front door. They were all just in time. Melody turned off her music and pulled down her large headphones to rest on her neck before Sherlock got out of the cab, holding the door open for his little sister. Melody gave the money to the cab driver as Watson knocked on the front door.

"Hello." Sherlock called out to Watson as Melody finally left the cab, letting it drive away.

Watson turned and greeted him, "Ah, Mr Holmes."

Melody hid a smirk as Sherlock and herself approached the doctor. Sherlock held out his hand, "Sherlock, please."

Watson took it and turned to Melody, "Hello, again, Miss Holmes."

"Doctor Watson." Melody made no indicatation that she was going to tell him her name. She liked her anonymity, until she was sure she could trust the person.

Watson nodded and looked around, "Well, this is a prime spot. Must be expensive."

"Not at all." Melody interjected

"Mrs Hudson, the landlady- she's given us a special deal." Sherlock explained, "Owes us a favour. A few years back, her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. We were able to help out."

Watson's face became one of disbelief, "Sorry, you stopped her husband being executed?"

Sherlock looked at him, a little puzzled, "Oh no-"

"-we ensured it." Melody finished, leaning against the fence, looking down at her feet.

Sherlock gave the surprised Watson a polite smile, who didn't have time to reply before the front door opened. Melody put on her best smile as Mrs Hudson, the kindly elderly landlady, appeared at the front door. Mrs Hudson was quite fond of Sherlock and Melody, despite their eccentricities. Melody did a quick habitual observation of Mrs Hudson as she greeted her older brother: _purple dress, brand new, the tag is still on it, Mrs Hudson has forgotten about it. Favouring her right leg as she stands, her hip is playing up._

_"_Sherlock!" Mrs Hudson smiled as she hugged him, "Oh, and hello, Mini Sherlock"

Mrs Hudson's 'cute' nickname for Melody. Melody held back her wince and smiled at her, "Hello, Mrs Hudson."

Mrs Hudson hugged Melody as well. New observations sprang into Melody's head: _floral smelling perfume, very strong. Mrs Hudson is planning to go out soon. The perfume is nothing special, maybe a couple of old friends out for bingo._

Melody pulled back, "I hope you enjoy going out tonight."

Mrs Hudson looked surprised, "I'll never understand how you and your brother do that."

Melody stepped back as Sherlock gestured to the doctor, "Mrs Hudson, Doctor John Watson."

Mrs Hudson smiled at him, "Hello, come in."

"Thank you," Watson politely replied as he entered.

Sherlock looked at Melody, "Shall we?"

"Of course."

Melody followed behind her brother and their new flatmate as their new landlady closed the door behind them. Travelling up the staircase, she followed behind Doctor Watson up the staircase while Sherlock led the way. While the doctor's limp was all in his head, it was still a motor hinderance and Melody decided to be on hand in case he fell. She couldn't afford him to get a real injury. Once finally up, in true Sherlock fashion, he swiftly opened the door and presented the room to both his sister and his new flatmate.

Melody agreed with Watson when he said, "Well, this could be very nice." It was roomy, with two windows facing the street. As usual, Sherlock's stuff was scattered everywhere, but Melody could actually see the floor and not all the furniture was covered in his stuff so that was better than the last place. Melody then took a look in the kitchen and saw that Sherlock had already had his equipment set up in there. Yep, it was going to be TV tray dinners from now on.

"Very nice indeed." Watson concluded as he looked around the room.

Sherlock followed their gaze around the room, "Yes. Yes, I think so myself, my thoughts precisely."

Then the pair of them spoke at once.

"So I went straight ahead and moved in."

"Soon as we get this rubbish cleaned up."

Melody smirked to herself as an awkward silence followed. Watson realised what Sherlock had said.

"Oh."

Sherlock just walked across the room and picked up a small pile of paper, putting it in a box. Watson continued, clearly trying to politely make up for his tactless remark.

"So, this is all..."

"Well, obviously, I can straighten things up a bit." Sherlock found a note on the ground and pinned it to the fireplace mantle by an army knife, "I have to. My sister still has to find a place to put her possessions."

"Wait, so this is all his?" Watson looked at her, surprised.

Melody shrugged, "Pretty much. Although, that little treat is a joint possession of ours."

Melody indicated to the skull sitting on the mantle. Melody finally found one of her boxes and guitar, hiding behind the door, as Watson stared at the skull. He pointed at it with his walking stick.

"That's a skull." he simply stated.

"Friend of mine." Sherlock explained.

Melody snorted loudly. Sherlock continued, "When I say friend..."

"What do you think, then, Dr. Watson?" Mrs Hudson asked as she walked in with Melody's other box, "I think this is yours, sweetie."

"Thank you." Melody took the box out of Mrs Hudson's hands. Sherlock began to take off his coat and scarf as everyone else spoke.

Mrs Hudson returned her attention to Watson, "There's another bedroom upstairs, if you'll be needing three bedrooms."

Melody hid a smirk as the doctor stared at her incredulously, "Of course, we'll be needing three."

"He's not with me, Mrs Hudson." Melody casually said as she began to unpacked one of her boxes.

Mrs. Hudson's eyes seemed to light up, "Oh! Don't worry, there's all sorts round here. Mrs Turner next door's got married ones."

Melody hid a chuckle as Watson stared at Sherlock, shocked, while her brother just ignored the 'trivial chatter' that was taking place.

"Oh, Sherlock!" Melody heard Mrs Hudson's voice from the kitchen, "The mess you've made."

Watson took this opportunity to sit down in the nearest leather chair while Melody finally found what she was looking for- her copy of Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. Leaving the rest of the box packed up, she got up and began to inspect the condition of the book, making sure that the removalists hadn't damaged the binding or anything. Watson noticed.

"Ah, Joseph Conrad. Never really fancied the book myself." He noted

"To put it frankly...", Melody opened up the book to reveal the huge hole she had cut in the pages, which she used to store her leather-bound journal, "...neither was I."

Watson stared and then grinned at her, looking down again. That damn habit was going to irritate Melody. She was sure she was going to hit him for doing that one day. Melody looked over at Sherlock to see him setting up his laptop. Of course that would be the first thing he'd do. That reminded Melody that she better check her laptop and make sure it wasn't damaged. Heading back to her boxes and going through them again, she overheard Doctor Watson begin to talk to Sherlock.

"I looked you up on the Internet last night."

Both the siblings turned and looked at him. Melody was impressed by his initiative, but of course, being a military man, he would want all the facts before agreeing to anything. Prior research of the enemy would be a habit that he was used to by now. Melody returned to searching her belongings, but continued to listen.

"Anything interesting?" Sherlock asked casually. Melody knew what he would have found.

"Found your website. The Science of Deduction." Melody had helped Sherlock set up that website. He had 'deleted' the process of doing that and certainly didn't want to waste his time remembering or 'delete' anything precious while remembering.

Sherlock was quite fond of that website. His voice gave off the smallest hint of approval-seeking that only Melody would pick up as he spoke next.

"What did you think?"

The following silence indicated to Melody that the doctor wasn't exactly impressed. Melody looked up to see Watson's look of skepticism and Sherlock's frown of confusion (and a little disappointment, although he would never admit to it).

"You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb?" Watson's tone of disbelief was evident.

"Yes." Sherlock replied,

Melody interjected "And we can read your military career in your face and your leg..."

"...and your brother's drinking habits in your mobile phone." Sherlock finished her sentence.

"How?"

That's what they always said: 'How?'. That was the fun part, though, the mystery. No one could ever be happy with that. Melody and Sherlock gave each other a quick glance, both saying 'Not yet. We don't want to scare him off' and were saved by Mrs Hudson walking in. At that moment, Melody found her laptop and started to inspect it.

"What about these suicides, then, Sherlock?" Mrs Hudson asked, walking in from the kitchen, reading the morning newspaper, "I thought that'd be right up your street, eh, sweetie?"

"Well, Mrs Hudson, we are just waiting for the right moment." Melody replied.

At that moment, Melody noticed Sherlock heading for the window. Something had caught his attention. Melody put her laptop to the side as she continued to listen to Mrs Hudson reading from the newspaper.

"Three exactly the same-"

"Four."

Melody froze. Four? Then she knew what Sherlock was looking at: Lestrade had decided to come in person.

"There's been a fourth." Sherlock continued, "And there's something different this time?"

"Lestrade?" Melody inquired.

"Yes."

"A fourth?" Mrs Hudson sounded shocked.

Melody got to her feet at the sound of footsteps running up the stairs. She turned to face the door as Lestrade entered the room, exhausted from his run up. He really needed to get back to the gym. He also needed sleep, as Melody could tell from the bags under his eyes. Probably been up for the past 36 hours.

Sherlock was straight to the point, "Where?"

"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens." Lestrade replied.

"What's new about this one?" Melody inquired

"You wouldn't have come to get us if there wasn't something different." Sherlock added.

"You know how they never leave notes?"

"Yeah."

"This one did."

Sherlock looked thoughtful and met Melody's eyes. A note? Melody was ready to walk out the door. But then, Melody read in Sherlock's eyes, who was going to be in charge of the crime scene?

"Will you come?" Lestrade asked

"Who's on forensics?" Sherlock replied

Lestrade looked almost reluctant to tell, "Anderson."

Sherlock looked away, almost frustrated. Melody didn't even try to supress a groan, "Why him? Doesn't he have another crime scene he can stuff up?"

"He doesn't work well with me." Sherlock pointed out.

Watson watched the exchange with surprise on his face. He still hadn't figured out what was going on. Melody pitied his tiny brain: it must be so frustrating inside a normal person's head.

"Well, he won't be your assistant." Lestrade sounded almost exasperated.

"I _need_ an assistant." Sherlock retorted

"What am I, chopped liver?" Melody put her hands on her hips.

"You and I are too much alike. I need a new perspective."

Lestrade ignored their sibling bickering, "Will you come?"

Sherlock took a second to consider, "Not in a police car."

Melody turned to Lestrade, "We'll be right behind."

Lestrade nodded at Sherlock and then at Melody, "Thank you. Remember, you're looking after him."

"I am not a babysitter, Lestrade. I'm his sister." Melody replied, "Now, go, we'll be right after you."

Melody watched as Lestrade left the room, while both Mrs Hudson and Watson watched the siblings in confusion and surprise. As his Detective Inspector's back disappeared down the staircase, Melody turned and watched Sherlock looking out the window. He was thinking to himself. She knew what was coming. A smile creeped up her brother's features, identical to the one creeping up hers.

_3...2...1..._

"Brilliant!" Sherlock jumped in the air, "Yes!"

Melody punched the air, "Finally! Fantastic!"

"Four serial suicides and now a note! Oh, it's Christmas!" Sherlock spun in excitement, clapping his hands joyfully, looking for his coat.

Melody turned to their landlady, "Mrs. Hudson, we'll be late. Might need some food. You know how he doesn't eat."

"I'm your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper." She reminded them gently.

"Something cold will do." Sherlock called out from the kitchen, "John, have a cup of tea, make yourself at home"

Melody quickly picked up her coat and followed her brother out of the apartment, calling out behind them, "Don't wait up!"

The excitement was getting to Melody. Another mystery to solve and it was the one she had been wanting to solve for nearly three months! Oh, it couldn't get better than this. They hurried down the staircase when Melody suddenly came to a halt in the middle of it. Sherlock was another flight of stairs down before he noticed her absence. She stood there staring into space when he reappeared in front of her, confused by her sudden stationary state.

"Melody? Come on, we've been waiting for a breakthrough in this case for months. I know you have. Why are you just-?" Sherlock looked at the thoughtful look in her eyes, "What? Melody Holmes, what are you thinking about?"

"We are going to a crime scene. With a dead body." Melody thought out loud, "But, as you say, you need an assistant with a new perspective, no matter how good we both are, but not just anybody"

"What are you getting at?" Sherlock was starting to sound impaitent.

"Well, our new flatmate, the_ Doctor_ John Watson from _Afghanistan_ certainly has a different perspective." Melody's face broke out in a half-grin, "And he just looks _so_ bored."

Sherlock finally understood the undertone of her idea, "I don't know what I would do without you, Mels."

"It's a gift."

When they returned to the apartment, Watson was reading the newspaper that Mrs Hudson had been reading, looking at the Beth Davenport article on the front page. Both Sherlock and Melody stood in the doorway, watching him, before Sherlock spoke up.

"You're a doctor."

Watson turned and looked at the pair standing the doorway. Melody strode forward, her hands in her pockets, still looking at him, ignoring the slithers of long black hair falling over her eyes.

"But not just any doctor. In fact, you're an army doctor." Melody continued.

"Yes." Watson stood to attention, clearing his throat.

"Any good?" Sherlock asked.

"Very good." This was the first time Watson was confident enough to stare at them both in the eyes, no looking down or anything. No modesty or arrogance though: he was being truthful and honest.

"Seen a lot of injuries, then. Violent deaths." Sherlock walked over and stood next to Melody.

"Well, yes."

"Bit of trouble too, I bet?" Melody inquired.

"Of course. Yes." Watson nodded, "Enough for a lifetime. Far too much."

His mouth spouted wisdoms and politeness, Melody noticed, but his eyes thirsted for so much more. Sherlock could see that too. Sherlock and Melody looked at each other and looked at Watson. It was decided.

"Want to see some more?"

"Oh, God, yes."

Melody grinned, "Let's go, boys."

They turned and hurried straight down the stairs. Watson called out to Mrs Hudson, telling him that he was going to skip his tea. Melody slipped on her gloves as Mrs Hudson appeared at the bottom of the staircase, almost sad that her three new tenants were going out so soon after moving in.

"All of you?"

Sherlock stopped at the door, turned around and walked back to his landlady, "Impossible suicides? Four of them? No point sitting at home when there's finally something fun going on!"

Sherlock kissed Mrs. Hudson on the cheek as Melody grinned, "I couldn't have put it better myself, Sherlock. It's time for us to enjoy ourselves."

Mrs Hudson scolded Sherlock half-heartedly, "Look at you, all happy. It's not decent."

At that, Melody laughed, startled Watson, who was standing next to her. Sherlock voiced their opinion, "Who cares about decent?"

In unison, Sherlock and Melody Holmes declared, "The game, Mrs Hudson, is on!"

* * *

><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed it! <strong>

**Oh, yeah, rate, review, I no own so you no sue. The usual crap.**


	4. Chapter 3: The Taxi Ride

**Welcome to the beginning of my first official Melodyverse tale for BBC Sherlock. Within this story, I introduce the little sister of Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes, Melody, as they join them for the first case of A Study In Pink. Read on!**

Previously:

_Lestrade arrived at the apartment and summoned Sherlock and Melody to the fourth serial suicide, who decide to bring their new flatmate, John Watson, with them. _

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

The cab ride was initially quiet. Melody spent the first part of it just observing the body language of her brother and Doctor Watson as she sat across from them, her back to the taxi driver. She didn't usually ride in this position- she hated putting so much faith in a stranger to drive her around -but Watson's 'injury' needed to be accomodated. Anyway, right now, she was far more interested in facing her new flatmate than watching the back of the cab driver's head- which really needed to be washed with something other than his new girlfriend's shampoo.

She never usually took avid interest in the appearance of people, unless it provided pertinent information about the person which would assist her in understanding them. Melody alone could tell from Watson's attire that they were mainly hand-me-downs, from second hand stores and the like. It also gave the impression that he was a sitting-down, relaxing kind of person. However, his Afghanistan history and the fact he was accompanying them to a crime scene gave out a different impression. He sought action, adventure, something to get the adrenalin pumping, but society had oppressed such primal desires. He had conformed. Melody found this profoundly interesting.

She could see it in Watson's facial expression that he wanted to ask both her and Sherlock numerous questions. Sherlock was busy on his phone- or at least pretending to be. It was hard to tell with him. Sherlock liked to be sneaky, but sometimes he really did get so immersed in an activity that he becomes oblivious to everything else. It then became Melody's job to bring him out of it. Watson kept glancing over at him and what he was doing, unsure whether if he should be straightforward and ask or be polite and let them do the explaining. Sherlock finally felt John's gaze burning into him and peeked at him out of the corner of his eye, forcing John to quickly avert his glance out of Melody's window. Sherlock and Melody met eyes. Melody rolled hers, and Sherlock sighed, putting on a dramatic air of irritance.

But, in reality, now it was time for the fun part.

"OK, you've got questions." Sherlock broke the ice.

"Yeah, where are we going?" Watson inquired.

"Crime scene. Next."

"Who are you? What do you do?"

"What do you think?"

Melody watched on silently as Watson looked around and attempted to gather an answer together.

"I'd say private detective..."

"But?"

"Police don't go to private detectives."

Sherlock gave a smirk. Melody grinned at Watson. She was definitely going to like this one. He was smart- for a normal person.

"I'm a consulting detective. The only one in the world. I invented the job." Sherlock informed Watson.

"And what does that mean?"

"It means when the police are out of their depth-"

"-which is always-" Melody added under her breath.

"-they consult me and my sister." Sherlock finished, glancing out the window as he did so.

Watson clearly was skeptical about the whole thing, established in his next comment, "The police don't consult amateurs."

Sherlock and Melody both froze. They turned and looked at Watson unanimously and then looked at each other. Melody almost snorted with derision. Amateurs? Clearly they need to show this non-believer what he was dealing with.

Melody leant forward, "Doctor, when we met you for the first time yesterday, both me and my brother said 'Afghanistan or Iraq?'. You looked surprised."

Watson looked from Sherlock to her, "How did you know?"

"We didn't know." Sherlock replied, "We saw. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself says military. Your conversation as you entered the room said 'trained at Bart's'. So army doctor. Obvious."

"Your face is tanned, but no tan above the wrist. You didn't get it from sunbathing." Melody continued on, "Also, your limp's really bad when you walk, but you don't ask for a chair when you stand. It's like you have completely forgotten about it. Has to be partly psychosomatic."

"That says that the original circumstances of the injury were traumatic. Wounded in action, then." Sherlock finished off, "Wounded in action, suntan- Afghanistan or Iraq?"

Watson was dumbstruck for a good moment. Melody watched him intently. They weren't done, but they gave him a moment to let their train of thought sink in. Melody had taught Sherlock to do this, as when he usually started, it would be hard for him to stop and, for normal people, they need to let one thing sink into their narrow minds at a time.

"You said I had a therapist." Watson pointed out.

"You've got a psychosomatic limp-" Sherlock began.

"-Of course you've got a therapist." Melody finished off, raising an eyebrow. She thought that one should be obvious.

Sherlock eyed Melody, trying to get silent permission to continue. Melody glanced over Watson and decided that he was ready for the next round of explanation, and nodded at Sherlock.

"Then there's your brother." Sherlock began, "Your phone- it's expensive. Email enabled, MP3 player. Now you're looking for a flat, you wouldn't waste money on this. It's a gift then. Scratches, not one. Many over time. It's been in the same pocket as keys and coins. The man sitting next to me wouldn't treat his one luxury item like this, so it's had a previous owner. Next bit's easy. You know it already."

Watson was smart enough to keep up with this one, "The engraving."

Melody nodded, "Harry Watson- clearly a family member that's given you their old phone."

"Not your father, this is a young man's gadget." Sherlock added.

Melody jumped in again- she was determined to prove to Sherlock that it might not be a man -by adding, "Could be a cousin, but you're a war hero that can't find a place to live. Unlikely that you've got an extended family, certainly not one you're close to. So sibling it is."

"Now, Clara. Who's Clara?" Sherlock continued, "Three kisses says there is a romantic attachment. Expensive phone says wife, not girlfriend. Must have been given to him recently, this model's only six months old. Marriage in trouble then. Six months on, he's just giving it away? If she left him, he would have kept it. People do - sentimental- but no, he wanted rid of it. He left her."

Melody was getting frustrated with her sexist sibling. Surely he'd get the hint from how she is talking about _her_ idea, "_They_ gave the phone to you. That says that they want you to stay in touch. You're looking for cheap accomodation and you're not going to your _sibling_ for help? That says you've got problems with them. Maybe you liked their wife. Maybe you don't like their drinking."

"How - can - you both - possibly know - about the drinking?" Watson worded it out slowly, either from frustration, amazement or disbelief, looking at both Melody and Sherlock emphatically.

Sherlock grinned to himself. He always did that when he founded out that he was right, especially when he wasn't too sure himself. Melody hid her smile: she tried to not be as cocky as her brother. Also she wanted to be sure about the sibling conundrum before being smug.

"Shot in the dark. Good one, though. You got that too?" Sherlock looked at Melody.

"More of a elimination of possibilities. It was one of my top three." Melody replied, nodding.

Sherlock turned to Watson, "Power connection. Tiny little scuff marks around the edge of it. Every night, he goes to plug it in to charge, but his hands are shaky. You never see those marks on a sober man's phone, never see a drunk's without them. There you go, see, you were right."

Watson stared at him and Melody, gobsmacked, "I was right? Right about what?"

"The police don't consult amateurs." Sherlock and Melody both replied in unison.

There was a moment of silence. Melody hated these moments, because she knew they could go both ways. It could result in Watson being absolutely repulsed by the 'wierdo siblings' and end up driving him away- this is the more likely scenario as it was the one that happened the most often- and Melody would be a little regretful that she drove away something which fascinated her so. She looked at her big brother. She could see it in his distant gaze that he was preparing himself for an onslaught of abuse, which usually occurred afterwards. It pained her when she had to watch her brother put on his emotionless mask. She wanted to see her brother smile and laugh, like he used to, without it being a result of being right.

All Melody wanted was for Sherlock to have a friend.

"That... was... amazing."

Melody turned to the doctor, her eyes wide. Sherlock stared at Watson, dumbfounded. Did he just say that?

"Really?" Melody let the surprise seep into her voice.

"You think so?" Sherlock's surprise was in his eyes.

"Of course it was." Watson replied matter-of-factly, "Extraordinary. It was quite extraordinary."

"Wow..." Melody looked at Sherlock, who stared back at her, both of them equally stunned, "A compliment... Sherlock, it was a compliment."

"Why not?" Watson turned to her, puzzled.

Sherlock smirked darkly to himself, "That's not what people normally say."

"What do people normally say?"

"Piss off." Sherlock and Melody said together.

Watson suddenly grinned at them. Sherlock looked at his sister and smiled at her before looking out the window, letting the joy linger in his eyes. As she watched the two men, Melody let a small smile slip out and grace her lips. She was definitely going to like this one.

* * *

><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed it! <strong>

**Oh, yeah, rate, review, I no own so you no sue. The usual crap.**


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